


Promise

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2018 SPNKinkBingo [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Touch-Starved, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 02:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: You hold out on Dean after he flirts with a waitress on a case. He’s had enough.





	Promise

“Oh, come on, babe,” Dean says over the sound of your chair scraping over the hardwood floor, sighs as he runs a hands through his hair. “It’s been over a week!”

“And?” you toss back, still hot and stomping off toward the bedroom wing of the bunker. “Just - just go fuck yourself!”

There was no meaning behind it, you knew that. It was just a little harmless flirting to get the information needed to snuff the case - but dammit - she was pretty. Of  _course_  he’d flirt with the pretty one. You didn’t catch him winking at the divorcée bank teller, or the plain little sales assistant across the street. Nope, he picked the pretty blonde waitress with the fake rack - the last person to allegedly see the vic alive.

Your gut twisted at the first wink followed by that panty-melting smirk. Those were supposed to be reserved for  _you_.

That was over a week ago and you’re still holding out on him. You’re not sure if it’s to teach him a lesson or if it’s because you’re still so goddamned pissed.

Both, probably.

It’s not that you’re particularly jealous, it’s just that….

Fine. You’re fucking jealous.

You’re not even sleeping in his room anymore, instead crashing in a spare bedroom down the hall, just until you cool off.  _If_  you do.

You slam your door shut, thunk your head against it and let your eyes fall closed. How fucking  _dare_  he? That smolder belongs to you, not random-bimbo-number-five.

You tear off your flannel, chunk into some corner of the room. You’re toeing off your boots when the door suddenly  _swings_  open.

Whirling around, your hands instantly finding your hips as you glare at the towering hunter leaning against the door jam.

“What?” you seethe.

Dean takes a step inside, and closes the door with a soft click. “This is ridiculous,” he says, eyes hard. “It didn’t mean shit. We both do what we gotta for the job.”

“No, Dean. I don’t whore myself for the job.”

Dean laughs, clipped. “Are you fucking kidding me? I. Winked. At. Her.”

“No, you did the thing. With the smirk and the eyes and the whole -  _rrrrgh!”_

The hunter dips his chin, narrows his eyes.

“Enough.”

Fuck, he’s…he’s doing the voice.

“No,  _I’ll_  tell you when I’ve had en-”

He takes a long stride forward, wraps a big hand around your throat-

“I  _said_. Enough.” His voice is a dangerous growl as he grounds the words out between clenched teeth, hot breath puffing against your lips. All you can do is whimper in his gasp as the heat from his curled hand seeps into you and spreads like wildfire through your veins.

Shit.

This isn’t fair. You’re punishing  _him_  - he can’t just slip into that role - not  _now_ …

“Do you know…” he starts, fingers pulsing against your skin. “How  _frustrating_  it’s been to keep my hands off of you?”

“Dean…”

“I mean, sure, I took care of  _myself_ …but do you know difficult it was…” He shuffles closer to you, and fuck, he smells like  _Heaven_. “To stop myself from bending you over the goddamned library table and fucking you into mush?”

“Please…”

Jesus - his words, his heat, his scent…it’s all slicking you up so  _fast_.

“Y’know there’s such a thing as overkill,” he continues.

“M’sorry,” you whisper, lashes fluttering in heady lust.

“Are you? Show me then. Show me how sorry you are.”

You start to sink as soon as his fingers relax, and you let your hands skim over the warm front of him as you kneel at his feet. His arms hang loose at his sides while you work his belt open, then his jeans. You run your fingertips over the hard line of his cock trapped behind his boxers, feel the burning heat of him through the cotton.

You look up at him, eyes wide, and let out a shuddering breath as you take in his expression; dark eyes, clenched jaw, and barely-parted lips.

With your eyes glued to his, you hook your fingers underneath his jeans and boxers, tug them down until they’re bunched around his thick thighs, mouth watering when his cock springs free, hot and hard.

Your nerves ignite when you curl your hand around his base, lean forward to lick the bead of precome blooming at the tip-

Dean fists your hair at the back of your head, and pain prickles over your scalp as he jerks back until your face is harshly tipped up to his.

“No teasing,” he warns, voice sharp. “Suck.” And then he curves his free hand over yours at his root, and guides the head to your lips. You obediently drop your jaw and flatten your tongue as he inches himself into your mouth, groaning when you close your lips around him.

He’s already so fucking hard, your lips stretched almost uncomfortably around him-

And then he knocks your hand away as he starts to thrust, doesn’t give you a sliver of control as he gets both hands on your head and fucks into your mouth.

You get your palms on his warm hips, feel the muscles and tendons rolling against them as he rocks. Your eyes stay on his as he moves, and you’re always a little overwhelmed at the sheer mass of him; broad shoulders and thick chest - he’s like a breathing wall of strength, of  _power_.

He’s thrusting harder now, the wide tip of him bumping the back of your throat over and over, fingernails deliciously scraping at your scalp, scrunching into your hair. You hollow your cheeks to spur him on, suction your lips-

And then he’s  _growling_ , curling in so deep his balls mash against you chin and you can feel the hard bulge in your throat.

He pulls back, clamps a hand around the fat base of his cock, and squeezes hard, the glistening shaft twitching helplessly as he extinguishes his impending orgasm.

“Bed,” he pants, with a sharp jerk of his head. “Clothes off.”

You nod and rise to your feet, quickly discarding your clothing as your cunt throbs in time with your heartbeat. Breathless and a little dizzy, you climb on the old bed and assume your usual position in this situation; all fours, facing the headboard.

Bedsprings creak as the mattress dips under Dean’s solid weight, and your belly burns and rolls in anticipation.

_THWACK!_

You gasp at the prickling sting blossoming across the right globe of your ass, then groan as it ebbs into pleasure.

“You still sorry?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Good.”

And then the velvety head of his cock pushes at your entrance - you shift your knees farther apart, opening yourself wide for him.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, hands fitted at your hips as he sinks into you.

Your mouth lies gaping, eyes rolling back as the hunter pushes inside you for the first time in too-fucking-long. He runs his hands up your sides, dipping underneath you to clutch and squeeze at your breasts.

Dean slicks out slow, and god, the drag feels  _phenomenal_  against your sensitive walls. He pulls out until just the tip is nestled inside your heat-

And then  _SNAPS_  his hips forward, buries himself inside in one solid thrust.

“Oh my god, Deannn…” you groan, fingers curling into the thin blankets as he starts to pump into you. His heavy fingers dent into the soft mounds of your breasts, warm abdomen plastered against your back as he curls into you.

Your arms burn, start to shake from the tiring effort of holding yourself up for him, but you grit through it, instead focusing on the overwhelming pleasure as Dean fucks in deep. He’s grunting now, thrusting  _faster, harder, deeper_  on every plunge.

“Fuck - Dean!” you keen, nearly sobbing as he fills you over and over, so fucking  _good_.

You let your head drop then, and watch as his shadowy thickness repeatedly disappears into you-

It’s too much - you collapse, upper body bouncing against the mattress as Dean drops to his fists, and oh  _hell_ -

He lets go then,  _really_  lets go; hammers into you so fast and hard that it’s forcing wetness from your eyes as well as your cunt, and you have to bite at the blanket to keep the entire state of Kansas from hearing your screams.

Dean jams a hand under your hips, rubs three fingers over your swollen clit in hard, swirling circles-

You’re careening toward the edge at an alarming speed, your belly and thighs stiffening as you get closer and closer.

“You don’t even deserve to come, do you?” Dean rasps, breathless. “I should fill this pussy up, leave you here dripping my load with nothin’ to show for it.”

You choke out a dying sound as he rubs harder.

“But I’m  _nice_  to you,” he pants. “I wouldn’t deprive you just to prove a shitty point.”

He stills, clamps a hand around your throat.

“Am I good to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“D’you wanna come?”

“Yes, sir -  _please!”_

“Use your words.”

“Please,  _please_ , may I come?”

He starts to thrust again, swipes his fingers over your throbbing nub, leans down to brush his lips at your ear.

_“Come.”_

Bursts of blinding white flash behind your eyes as you clamp down on him, tears streaming across your cheeks and bridge of your nose to soak the blankets as you shake from the explosion.

You’re still jerking when Dean spurts into you; warm and thick and so, so  _good._ He pulls out, and you can feel the wet slicking from your opening to coat your thighs.

You flop yourself to your back, sore and boneless, and let your eyes fall closed in exhaustion. When you open them again, Dean’s at your side with a warm, wet washcloth. You breathe deep as he wipes you clean, then curls into your side, sweat-damp and still-naked.

He gets a palm against your cheek, tilts your face toward him.

“Hey,” he breathes, thumb stroking over your cheek. “You alright?” He smiles sweet.

“Mmmhmm,” you manage, still a little floaty. “Sorry I’s such a bitch.”

Dean breathes a little laugh and settles soft eyes on yours.

“You know you’re it for me, right? There ain’t ever gonna be anyone else.”

There’s a heavy kind of pressure that swells in your chest at those words and you turn your body towards him, run your fingers through the velvety spikes of his hair.

“Promise?”

Dean winks.

“Promise.”


End file.
